


You Don't Always Gotta Be On Top

by FlamboyantProblematic



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn with Feelings, PowerBottom!Titus, Riding, Smut, Top!Glen, and fucking, idk theres just a lot of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamboyantProblematic/pseuds/FlamboyantProblematic
Summary: Titus Atticus Hardie; rugby star, professional boxer, captain of the rowing club, and self-proclaimed sheriff of Martinaise. A god among people. But being this good doesn't always mean being on top.
Relationships: Glen/Titus Hardie
Kudos: 3





	You Don't Always Gotta Be On Top

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a little break from writing all the gloom and doom in Memento Mori and unwinding by writing some smut. Feels like its been a while since I just sat down and wrote "pwp"
> 
> May I direct your attention to Powerbottom!Titus? 'Cause when you got two dominant males, you gotta make it work. He might be a bottom but he's still the boss! That's true power right there.

The road of his body is familiar to you. A map of your life spreads across his skin, from every scar to every line that makes him whole. You remember each one. His hand is in your long golden hair, carding through it with ease, it twirls and falls through his fingers like silk and draws a peaceful sigh out of you that ghosts over his well-toned skin.

Twenty years. That's how long the two of you have been dancing around one another. They were some of the best and worst years of your life. Love is alien to you but you're sure you love him. Once upon a time, you were afraid of what that meant, but now it doesn't matter because the two of you are here, and you're kissing him. He tastes like cheap booze and everything sweet that makes a man. You could get drunk on him.

"We gonna get this rodeo goin' or we just gonna sit here and make out?"

You must have been doing this for some time if he's getting impatient. Funny, usually you're the impatient one.

"Yeah, yeah." You give him one final quick kiss before moving downwards, leaving your mark on his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, licking over the skin, tasting him. He tastes like the sea; mighty.... and salty with sweat. Your teeth graze over his figure and you bite down on certain spots. He hums, enjoying the attention you're giving him. A hand rubs circle around the side of his hip bone, your mouth gets busy on the other side bitting down, your jaw traps his skin in a firm grip that leaves it red afterward, he hisses but doesn't seem to bothered by the stinging pain. He's full of bite marks anyway. That's the way you like to mold and shape him, with scratch marks, with love bites, with knife cuts and rope marks. The thought excites you. 

"Lower." 

You obey and move lower, his hand guides you to his thigh where you plant a few more kisses followed by a few more bites. There are scars scattered around his skin, some from your misadventures and some from your knife. You follow the scars to his leg, lifting it up to put it over your shoulder, your lips hover over the skin down to his feet, and then back up to his inner thighs. When you turn your head, you're met with his cock. The sight of it makes you lick your lips. 

"Not yet." 

You look up at him, he stares back through heavy-lidded eyes, clouded with lust, and yet his eyes are so clear. There's a silent understanding between you. Worship his body some more.

You sit up and place your hands on his chest, long rough fingers spread across his figure, brushing over his nipples, you draw the shape of him as you move; you admire every bump and the way his body curves near the hips making his upper body look broader, you admire his muscles; the way it makes his rough skin feel hard against the tip of your fingers, the way they twitch when you rub the right spots. A soft sigh escapes his lips. 

You move back up and return to his chest, toying with his chest hair for a while before leaning down, you flick your tongue out and twirl it over one of his nipples while you pinch the other. He encourages you with gentle strokes, rubbing up and down your back, then his nails drag over your spine, sending shivers through your body. 

Your lips close around him, teeth biting gently on his nipple, earning you a low rumble from his chest. The fact that he enjoys this makes you so fucking hard. 

"Stop."

You release him and kiss his chest, his chesthair tickles your nose. Your hand caresses one of his scars before you sit up again, waiting for his next order but instead he just pulls you in for a kiss... You melt instantly. 

His giant hand wraps around your cock and starts stroking you slowly. The contact is heavenly and leaves you craving more so you try to focus on both deepening the kiss and bucking your hips. 

He stops. 

"Don't do that."

"What? Why?"

Because he said so. 

You sigh in defeat and try to contain yourself as he goes back to jerking you off. The smile on his face is devilish. He knows what to do to make you lose it... Which means he's expecting rough, hard, brutal sex tonight. Good. It's your favorite. 

You wrap your arms around him and rest your head on them as he finds a rhythm between stroking and twisting his wrist. It's so hard to fight the urge to fuck the circle of his hand but you know you'll be getting nothing if you disobey him.

There's nothing to do now but close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his rough hands around you. 

"What are you thinkin' about?" His breath is hot against your ear, he presses his forehead against the side of your head, his fingers tease the head of your cock by rubbing the slit until precum leaks out of it. 

Your fingers curl into fists and soon you're dragging your nails across his back. 

"Thinkin' about how eager I am to fuck you. Shove my dick down your throat and watch those pretty lips suck me dry." 

He smirks. "You would like that wouldn't you?"

What you would give right now to bust a load all over his face and watch him lick your cum off. 

He picks up the pace, his strokes becoming faster and faster, making your imagination run wild behind your closed eyes. You wish that was his hole right now, engulfing your dick while you pound into him. 

Fuck... How are you supposed to stay still when he's doing this to you? 

He shifts and lowers his head to spit between you, getting saliva all over his hand and your cock, it makes stroking you smoother. You have a bottle of lube inside your nightstand but your brain is too far gone to think about that now. All you want to think about is how hard you'll fuck him over every surface in the room. 

An almost animal like growl escapes you and your nails tear through bits of his skin. 

"Look at you, still as a tree. That's a good boy."

You can't take much more. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, upper lip twitching like a rabid dog. He gets you so close to the edge... And then stops, making you fall from cloud nine at a rapid speed and crash back down into Elysium. 

"Fuck..."

"Yeah. We'll get there."

He sits back, giving you time to catch your breath, but he doesn't let you get too comfortable. You see his hand, sticky with precum, he brings it up to his lips and slowly cleans his fingers while you watch. 

... And then he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. 

Your dick responds. It wants to be buried deep down his throat. 

Swiftly, you pin his hands to the wall, gripping his wrists tightly. You could have sworn he smiled at you then, but still, he does not close his mouth. You take that as an invitation and shift, propping up on your knees so that your cock would be at his mouth's length, and then you shove it in. No slow entrance. The back of his head almost hits the wall behind him from the force of your movement, he doesn't seem to care, too occupied at trying not to gag on the new weight invading his mouth. The muscles of his throat tighten as he swallows, the walls pressing against your dick. A loud gagging noise ills the room for a moment, and his body spasms but he doesn't try to pull back. You can feel him doing his best to breathe and his eyes shut tightly. 

You remain still for a while until saliva starts pooling in his mouth and coats your length. After that, you let his hands go and instead place your own in his short dark hair. There's barely anything to grip but you curl your fist into his hair anyway, your other hand travels down to his neck, squeezing just enough for you to feel just how well you occupied the space in his throat, then you start moving. You make sure to push all the way in with every thrust, rolling your hips slowly, giving yourself time to savor the feeling of filling his mouth. He closes his lips around you, slurping noises fill the room... You're a lucky bastard. 

He doesn't just do this with anyone, you know? 

But you're not someone he just picked up at the bar and decided to fuck. You didn't meet just a few days ago. You're his best friend and you have been for two decades. The fact that Titus-freaking-Hardie is willing to let you do this to him shows how much he really loves you so be grateful.

Feelings, you know you have them but you've never been the best at expressing them. You just hope he understands that you love him with every thrust.

You can feel yourself through the walls of his neck as you move, how you fill him up, and then how hollow his throat becomes when you pull back. There's something fascinating about how your dick can fit in such a tight space and hit the back of his throat each time without him gagging.

His hands come up to the small of your back, hovering just over your ass but he doesn't try to control your pace, he simply just rubs your back up and down and then rests his hands on your ass-cheeks, kneading them, parting them, grabbing fist fulls of them until the skin becomes red and his hands leave their mark. Sometimes his finger would tease your entrance, drawing a line between each cheek but never going further.

His cheeks hollow as he sucks, making loud, wet slurping noises. He's gotten used to you now and the tension leaves his body. He opens his narrow eyes and looks up at you, and fuck, you thought you could just cum right then and there, but you keep yourself together. His teeth hover over the top and bottom side of your dick, adding to the pleasure as they trace veins and touch the spots that make you buck your hips wildly. 

You can feel the pressure building in your stomach again, his tongue presses against the underside of your throbbing cock, twirling and wiggling to cover as much space as possible and it brings you closer to the edge. You get a sense of fury thinking about whether he's done this with anyone else. You're possessive and get extremely jealous, as much as you hate to show it. But he's too good at this for you to be the first guy he's fucked. He's always been too good. Even on your first night together. But you never bring up the question. You just bottle it up and let it turn into anger. 

The newly built fury makes your movement rougher and harsher, your grip on his hair is the only thing keeping his head from slamming back into the wall. When you pull back, spit drips down your cock a string of saliva keeps you connected with his lips. 

He takes the opportunity to even his breathing but he looks up at you with that same confident look and same cocky smile, and those fucking heavy eyes that make you want to punch him and then kiss the look off his face. His lips are red, well, redder than they are usually, and puffy. You grip his jaw with one hand and force his head in place, looking up at you, then you lean down and taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is lazy and messy but it's intoxicating nonetheless.

"What?" he says against your lips. "Had enough?"

"We're just gettin' started."

That makes his smile widen. He sinks into the bed and pulls you down with him. His hand threads through your golden hair, pushing the strands behind your ear gently and you turn your head to kiss the palm of his hand. You're almost embarrassed by the soft nature of your actions but at the same time, it feels right.

"Aw, what's with the red cheeks?" He's not talking about your ass.

"Shut up."

He laughs then his arms engulf you, pressing you close to him, close to his heart, to his very being. You bury your face in his shoulder and hug him back. How do you go from aggressively fucking his face to hugging him? He's so warm... And he smells of sweat and love. 

You don't want this soft shit to kill the mood though so you rock your hips and rub your groins together. Your cocks brush against one another once, twice, until you have a steady rhythm. He matches your movement and soon you're humping each other. There aren't any complaints, of course, your dick is enjoying the contact. You lift your head and capture his lips in another kiss before sitting up to focus more on your movement, watching as your dick rubs against his inner thighs then his own manhood, and how he meets your every thrust with one of his own. Soon, you're picking up the pace, going faster and faster until he gestures for you to stop. Like an obedient dog, you do.

He shifts and lies down on his stomach, giving you a glorious view of his back, his shoulder-blades, and most importantly, his firm ass. You tower over him, leaning down to kiss the back of his ear, nibbling gently on the skin before going down to his neck and shoulders. His back, like the rest of him, is full of scars. You adore them, they're a part of him so of course, you do.

Your fingers trace their lines, rough skin on rough skin... He's perfect, you think.

He moves again, pushing the pillows under his head and resting on them, then he turns to look at you and watches as you worship the sight of him. He's a god to you. How pathetic and sad you must be to think that. Regardless, you kiss your way down his body and stop at the small of his back. On his ass, you can see a small burn mark that you left on him during one of your fun nights. You're used to smoking while you do this, and at the time it seemed tempting to put your cigarette out on his skin, so you did. Titus didn't seem to mind though.

You leave another kiss on the mark before letting your hands massage his cheeks. He hums in approval. All these years of rowing have really made that ass heavenly, woof-woof!! You move to the center, letting your tongue brush over his entrance. You tease the skin, wiggling your tongue around it but never pushing in until you feel Titus bend a knee, it moves him upward slightly, a sign of need. You're happy to comply and push your tongue inside of him while your hands keep his cheeks parted. The tight ring of muscle welcomes you. You close your lips around him, kissing and licking where you could until he starts to loosen which allows you to push your tongue in further.

One of your hands joins you, finger rubbing around the entrance. When you feel like it's loose enough, you push a single digit in.

"Ah, fuck," You hear him say. "That's it, Glenny. Keep goin'."

It's so tempting at that moment to stroke yourself but you focus on him instead. With your tongue and finger inside him, you start to find a rhythm between in and out; finger in, tongue out, and vice versa, so there's always something pushing further into him. You can hear him moan softly, every moan sends a dozen waves right to your dick. You want more, to please him more, to make him moan louder. Anything for him to just feel good, to hear him compliment you.

"Glen..."

Fuck, he could make you cum hands-free. You force yourself to focus on fucking him, pushing a second finger in to the first knuckle. His grip around the pillows tightens a slew of compliments falls from his lips which only encourage you to go faster. His walls are warm, you can't wait to fill him up. You pull back only to spit on his hole making going in and out a bit smoother. Your fingers part in scissoring motions, stretching him, and finally, you give in to the desire of touching yourself, stroking yourself in time with your thrusts. But he doesn't let you enjoy it for long.

"Hands off."

You look at him, eyes pleading. You need friction. Your cock is practically weeping for it. But you know he's not asking. It's an order... so you obey. Unexpectedly, he shifts after that, moving your fingers out of him. He pushes you down and keeps you pinned. After that, he reaches for the bottle of lube inside your nightstand and pours a generous amount into his hand. You've been good. He's going to give you a little treat. His rough hand grips your manhood and strokes, getting lube all over your cock. His strokes are fast and merciless, rubbing the head, teasing the shaft, pressing all the right spots that make you buck your hips and fuck the circle of his hand. He doesn't stop you but watches with a satisfied smirk as you try to find release in his grip.

"That's it, babe. So close to cummin' for me, huh?"

God, yes!! yes!!

But of course, he doesn't let you get there and pulls away just in time to send you crashing once more. You let out a frustrated growl and he only laughs at that.

Titus cleans his hand on the bedsheets before adjusting himself, he pulls you up by your hands to a sitting position and you quickly wrap your arms around him as he lowers himself onto your cock. He uses one hand to guide you in and you feel the tip pushing past the ring of muscles. There's no better feeling than this, you're certain of it. Being inside him makes you feel whole. 

When he's fully seated, the two of you take a moment to enjoy the feeling. He only gives you a small window, and then he's moving again. The first few ups and downs are slow, but then he allows you to move with him, meeting him halfway for every thrust. Soft moans fill the air around you. You want to fuck him hard, shove him down and claim him like a wild beast, pound into him mercilessly until he cries out your name as he cums, you want to leave him sore for weeks. Your desperation is evident in the way you dig your nails into his back and how you roll your hips in a messy rhythm that's faster than his own.

All thoughts leave your head except this one. Violent sex. 

"Easy there, tiger."

'Just let me fuck you, just let me fuck you, just let me---' it's all you can hear in your brain.

Your hands journey lower and grab him by the ass, lifting him up so you could push him against the wall before pounding into him once more. You keep him pinned to the wall with a hand around his throat, the tension of many years of piled up emotions stacks up and you let out your lust and frustration with every thrust.

You want words to leave you, but you only manage to grunt and growl. Don't choke him to death. Focus.

Your eyes meet his, somehow he still looks cocky... and he deserves to be. He reduces you to this animalistic mess. The urge to punch him returns, you almost can't help it. You just want to wipe that fucking look off his face so you shove your hand in his face. That's when he bites you, not in a playful manner, but harshly. You yelp and pull your hand back only to curl it into a fist and punch him... it felt good.

The two of you end up on the bed, you shove his face down onto the mattress and thrust into him again, keeping both his arms pulled behind his back with one hand and his face pushed down with the other.

"That's what gets your rocks off, right? You kinky son of a bitch." He chuckles and you kill his laughter by slamming into him roughly. "Give it to me then, Glen. Harder." Finally, an order you can get down with.

You let him go in favor of placing your hands on his hips, pushing him back against you to meet every buck of your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin, along with your breathing fills the room. Your nails dig into his hips, leaving nasty red marks in the shape of crescents that might form bruises afterward. You lean down, your chest pressing against his back, your hair brushes against his skin, and the bed creaks beneath the force of your movement, you're too focused on your thrusts that it's easy for Titus to surprise you when he flips you over.

You reach up to pull him down again but he punches you with enough force to make your head snap to the side. This only fuels your anger. "You're a real fuckin' animal, Dixon."

"Yeah," You spit on him. "What of it, Hardie?"

He wipes his face and there's that shit-eating-grin again. "Yet you can't fuck like a man."

Now you're sure he's just trying to piss you off... and it's working. "You got a fuckin' deathwish?"

"Yeah, destroy my ass." He shoves your face playfully.

You lunge at him and push him down, the bed is barely big enough for the two of you so it's a miracle you haven't fallen off yet, but everything else on the bed is now a mess.

Despite the roughness of your actions, the two of you laugh as you squabble and throw punches, it ends with blood on the sheets; your blood, his blood. There are minor bruises on your faces and knuckles. Nothing that you haven't done to each other before. This is how you show love, this is your way of expressing it because fists are easier to throw than spoken words. 

"You gonna fuck me or do I gotta ride you?" Both are tempting. "Show you how it's done."

"Knock it off or I'm bringin' the knife."

"Need your little toys to help?"

"No, it's to cut your dick off."

Empty threats, he knows that. When he pushes you down, you don't resist. You let him lower himself onto your cock, this time you have a little more self control, and you watch as your manhood disappears inside him. Your hand rests on his hips, feeling the weight of him as he moves up and down. 

"You know what? That was fun. Could use a smoke right now though."

"You're not gonna put it out on my face or nothin', right?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" A smirk tugs on his lips. To be fair, you could use a smoke too so you grab your pack from the nightstand and light one up for him, putting it between his lips. The tip lights up as he inhales and he leans back, his back almost arching. His body moves down but his head is lifted up, puffing out clouds of smoke over your heads. 

It's your kind of Paradise. A perfect sight. 

You take a hold of his cock and stroke it in time with his movement. It's like a beautiful dance, just for you. Your head is light like you're drunk on the sight of him fucking himself on your cock. You lick your drying lips and admire the way his hips move, up, down, like a merry-go-round. The sound of him slamming down onto your dick circulates around the room and fills your ears. 

He takes the smoke out of his lips and lowers his head to look at you. "Mmm, yeah. That's more like it." The older man leans forward to put the cigarette in your mouth and you gladly accept, biting on the butt of it to keep it in place as you thrust upwards every now and then to match the waves of Titus's dance. 

Up, down, you become entranced by the way he moves and the feeling of being inside him, filling him up. His walls squeezing and stroking all the right spots that drive you closer to the edge with every move, but he's exhausted your demons, perhaps that was his plan all along, so now he could control the pace... 

You find that you don't fucking care. 

He bends down and kisses the smoke out of your lips, breathing it into his lungs, then he takes the cigarette back from you for another drag and blows the nicotine cloud on your face before pulling back. You give his dick a rough squeeze, he slaps you in response. 

"Behave." 

You let go for a moment to grab the lube bottle, getting some on your hand before going back to stroking him. 

"Atta boy." 

He rewards you by picking up the pace, slamming down onto you harder and faster, leaving little space between in and out. The familiar knots begin to tighten in your belly, you meet his thrusts more often. 

"Atta boy, Glenny," he says again. "Just like that. That's good."

An almost pathetic whimper escapes you at his praises. You feed on his approval. You twist your wrist with every stroke down, soft curses crawl out of his throat, but when he looks at you, his eyes are focused. 

"Close?"

You nod. 

Oh no... The smirk on his face can only mean terrible things. "You wanna cum?"

You nod again. 

"Think you've been good enough?"

"Yeah." 

He takes the cigarette out and blows another cloud of smoke.

"Really?"

"Yeah, T." That's not what he wants to hear and you know it. 

He stops and keeps you from thrusting up into him by pinning your hips. 

"Well, I don't think you've been good enough."

Just to make things worse for you, he moves slightly, just enough to tease you but not give you any form of release. 

"I've been real good, come on." You can't move your hips and it's killing you. 

"Shit, I can feel your dick throbbin'. It's real deep inside."

Another weak whimper from you. He's going to fuck you with his words until you cum and you're gonna love it. 

"So fuckin' ready to bust a big load, yeah?"

"Yes!" You hiss. 

"Yes?"

It's the only way you're getting off tonight so swallow your pride. "Yes. Please, T."

"Can't hear you." He moves a bit faster. 

You want to arch your back so badly. "Fuck, Titus!"

"Nuh-uh, babe. I'm doin' the fuckin' here." You'll cum when he thinks you've had enough. Maybe it's your dick inside him right now, but that doesn't mean he's not the boss still. He doesn't need his dick inside you to fuck you, you're fucked either way. 

A single thrust. The tip of your cock slams against his prostate. Another thrust, he's breaking you slowly. 

"Mmm, fuck yeah. That feels real nice."

Just a few more. Just a few more.

"Come on, come on!!!"

"Tell me how bad you want it, Glenny." 

"Real bad!" 

He doesn't move. 

"Please, T. I'm so close."

"Then impress me." He lifts himself enough to bring his free hand between himself and your dick, giving it a few slow strokes before shoving himself down again. 

Your body shakes with need, all you can do to vent is howl. 

"Fuckin' do it or I'll slam you down and pound into your ass so hard and jizz so fuckin' up your ass, you'll be spitting out my cum"

He chuckles. That's good enough for him. He rides you again, slamming down hard on your cock, he puts the cigarette between your lips and it's far from what you wanna pay attention to right now but you let it burn out. He releases your hips from his grip and the first thing you do is sit up so you can wrap yourself around him. 

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" 

You can feel the pressure. You're so close, so fucking close, every time your dick slams against his prostate you see stars. you bury your face in his shoulder, your hands go down to his asscheeks and parts them, giving yourself more space. One, two, it's the final run to the winning try. The ball is over the crossbar... It's going and going, and then it explodes in the sky. With a gasp and his name on your tongue, you shoot your load into him. Long white strings of cum, filling him up to the brim, and leaks out as he keeps riding you dry. 

He follows soon after, sticky pearly whites stain the space between you, your chest, his chest, and both your stomachs. 

You remain wrapped in one another until you come down from your high. You can feel your cum trickling down your manhood and his hole pulsating around you. You're too tired to move, he's still recovering... So you just listen to him breathe. 

"Mmm," Titus hums. His long rough fingers stroke your back and help your body relax. "That was pretty good."

He must be fucking with you because that was fucking awesome. Your vision is still hazy with white spots floating around the room and your ear is ringing loudly. 

Titus is the first to move, lifting himself up until your cock slips out of him, then he gives you a few strokes, cleaning the cum off your cock before pressing his fingers to your lips, you lazily part them and flick your tongue out to taste yourself. He meets you with his own tongue and the two of you lick his hand clean before he turns his head to capture your lips in a lazy kiss.

"Stop. You're gonna make me hard again." You breathe against his lips.

"Want a second round?"

You smirk. "I could fuck that pretty ass all night."

Titus grins. "Too bad. We got practice tomorrow so hit the shower."

You peck his lips. "Maybe a quickie in the morning then?"

"Shower then bed, now, Glen."

You chuckle. "Alright. Whatever you say, boss." 

You get up and grab the now dead cigarette off the bed to toss it in the trash can. You can feel his eyes on your ass and almost picture the smirk on his face. 

Oh, what you would do to wipe that dumb look off his face... But you love it.


End file.
